anybody. Plus, it’s just cool.”
He pushed open the door.
Somewhere, Nag Champa incense burned, the overpoweringly sweet scent covering up anything that may have been unpleasant. Repetitious, hypnotic music drifted from a boom box on the floor against the wall. CD jewel cases were scattered nearby.
“I quit counting at twelve minutes,” said a girl in a black tank top and gray flannel pajama bottoms. She sat cross-legged on the floor, cards fanned out in her hand. “We were about to send a search party.”
She had short, unnaturally jet-black hair, choppy bangs, and a gold lip ring. “I’m out.” She put down a run of face cards, then discarded.
Her playing partner, a young man with wavy, not-so-black hair, weakly dropped his cards, rolled to his back, and put an arm across his eyes. “I have a headache.”
Eli introduced them as Franny Young and Noah Viola.
Franny said hi. Noah waved without lifting his head or uncovering his face.
The room had massive windows on all four sides. A cathedral ceiling stretched skyward like a bell tower. It was a nice space for the claustrophobic and light deprived. Not a nice space if you had vertigo.
Eli offered Arden something to drink. “We have Mountain Dew, Mountain Dew, or Mountain Dew.”
No wonder they couldn’t sleep. All that sugar and caffeine. “I’ll have Mountain Dew.”
He unscrewed the top of a green plastic quart bottle, splashed some yellow liquid in a blue plastic cup, and handed it to her.
The room had very little furniture. Two twin beds, neatly made up with beige spreads, and a rollaway shoved into the corner. A low, modular couch was positioned against one wall, with a plastic coffee table on a rug in front of it.
It looked thrown-together, as if the administration hadn’t foreseen using the room.
Franny poured herself some soda. “Sorry we don’t have any ice. There’s an ice machine in the basement, but they lock it up at seven.” She plopped down on the couch. “This whole place closes up when the sun goes down.”
Arden took a long swallow of the tepid drink. Not as bad as she’d expected.
The windows were low and deeply set, with wide stone ledges like something in a castle. She settled herself in one, her back supported by the stone frame, knees bent.
Eli grabbed a plastic outdoor chair and pulled it close so the three of them formed the points of a triangle, Noah quiet and lying outside.
“People from town talk so much garbage about the Hill.” Franny picked up a pillow in a white case and hugged it to her. “They say they used to perform lobotomies here. Not that long ago, either.”
A lobotomy. Was that a twisted version of the truth? Arden wondered. Was she really a walking vegetable and nobody had told her?
“You are so full of shit,” Noah mumbled from the shadows. “Who said that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. It’s just something I heard.”
“What are you doing here?” Arden asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from lobotomies.
“Easy money,” all three said in unison.
“We were in college,” Franny explained. “And we read in a campus paper about how they were looking for study subjects. I needed some time off anyway. And my student loans were freaking me out. This will pay for almost a year of school. Seemed perfect.”
Arden remembered those ads in college papers, seeking students to participate in research. She’d never known anyone who’d actually done it.
“What kind of studies?” Arden asked.
Eli glanced at Franny, then back to Arden. “Right now we’re testing the Mozart effect. Doing things to see if listening to Mozart improves our memory. Later, we’re going to do some sleep-deprivation stuff.”
Was everyone here listening to Mozart?
“I considered selling my eggs,” Franny said, “but then I read about all the dangerous drugs you have to take, and how it can really mess you up…”
“They can have my eggs,” Noah piped in.
Franny tossed her pillow
He pushed open the door.
Somewhere, Nag Champa incense burned, the overpoweringly sweet scent covering up anything that may have been unpleasant. Repetitious, hypnotic music drifted from a boom box on the floor against the wall. CD jewel cases were scattered nearby.
“I quit counting at twelve minutes,” said a girl in a black tank top and gray flannel pajama bottoms. She sat cross-legged on the floor, cards fanned out in her hand. “We were about to send a search party.”
She had short, unnaturally jet-black hair, choppy bangs, and a gold lip ring. “I’m out.” She put down a run of face cards, then discarded.
Her playing partner, a young man with wavy, not-so-black hair, weakly dropped his cards, rolled to his back, and put an arm across his eyes. “I have a headache.”
Eli introduced them as Franny Young and Noah Viola.
Franny said hi. Noah waved without lifting his head or uncovering his face.
The room had massive windows on all four sides. A cathedral ceiling stretched skyward like a bell tower. It was a nice space for the claustrophobic and light deprived. Not a nice space if you had vertigo.
Eli offered Arden something to drink. “We have Mountain Dew, Mountain Dew, or Mountain Dew.”
No wonder they couldn’t sleep. All that sugar and caffeine. “I’ll have Mountain Dew.”
He unscrewed the top of a green plastic quart bottle, splashed some yellow liquid in a blue plastic cup, and handed it to her.
The room had very little furniture. Two twin beds, neatly made up with beige spreads, and a rollaway shoved into the corner. A low, modular couch was positioned against one wall, with a plastic coffee table on a rug in front of it.
It looked thrown-together, as if the administration hadn’t foreseen using the room.
Franny poured herself some soda. “Sorry we don’t have any ice. There’s an ice machine in the basement, but they lock it up at seven.” She plopped down on the couch. “This whole place closes up when the sun goes down.”
Arden took a long swallow of the tepid drink. Not as bad as she’d expected.
The windows were low and deeply set, with wide stone ledges like something in a castle. She settled herself in one, her back supported by the stone frame, knees bent.
Eli grabbed a plastic outdoor chair and pulled it close so the three of them formed the points of a triangle, Noah quiet and lying outside.
“People from town talk so much garbage about the Hill.” Franny picked up a pillow in a white case and hugged it to her. “They say they used to perform lobotomies here. Not that long ago, either.”
A lobotomy. Was that a twisted version of the truth? Arden wondered. Was she really a walking vegetable and nobody had told her?
“You are so full of shit,” Noah mumbled from the shadows. “Who said that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. It’s just something I heard.”
“What are you doing here?” Arden asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from lobotomies.
“Easy money,” all three said in unison.
“We were in college,” Franny explained. “And we read in a campus paper about how they were looking for study subjects. I needed some time off anyway. And my student loans were freaking me out. This will pay for almost a year of school. Seemed perfect.”
Arden remembered those ads in college papers, seeking students to participate in research. She’d never known anyone who’d actually done it.
“What kind of studies?” Arden asked.
Eli glanced at Franny, then back to Arden. “Right now we’re testing the Mozart effect. Doing things to see if listening to Mozart improves our memory. Later, we’re going to do some sleep-deprivation stuff.”
Was everyone here listening to Mozart?
“I considered selling my eggs,” Franny said, “but then I read about all the dangerous drugs you have to take, and how it can really mess you up…”
“They can have my eggs,” Noah piped in.
Franny tossed her pillow
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